Underneath the Southern Cross

by Michael Hussey

  Although I was extremely disappointed that we’d lost, I was proud of the way we’d competed. It was only a couple of sessions that had cost us the result. But it was over now, and so was Ricky’s career, which was particularly hard for me to come to terms with. Having admired him for so long, and knowing I was harbouring this secret about my own future, I didn’t know what to say to him. We had a great celebration at Gilly’s house after the Perth Test match, but I didn’t have the chance to talk to Ricky one-on-one. I didn’t have the right words. Was I sad for his ending or happy about his career? I couldn’t do my feelings justice. I would have to write down a speech and prepare for a week to be able to say what I thought of him as a person.

  For me, nothing had happened to alter my decision. After eight years, I was dreading any more long tours away. I felt guiltier than ever for leaving Amy. I was providing for her and the kids, but not in a way I should be providing. Did I want to go through ten or eleven months away, facing extremely tough cricket challenges? No – I was dreading it. That was the defining factor in my decision to retire, and the recent weeks had confirmed it.

  The family poses for a photo. (L-R) Molly, William, me, Jasmin, Amy and baby Oscar before the team’s Christmas lunch at Melbourne’s Crown Casino on 25 December 2012. (Photo by Scott Barbour/Getty Images)

  One thing Michael Clarke’s captaincy style had in common with Ricky’s was to focus completely on the coming match and go hard. He kept talking about becoming the number-one team in the world, which was clearly his obsession. We had to keep getting better, he said, every single time we trained and played.

  The first Test against Sri Lanka in Hobart was the beginning of life without Ricky. Phil Hughes came in, desperate to cement his place in what was his fourth crack at Test cricket. I wanted to go out on a high and keep my standards up. We all had something to play for.

  Sri Lanka had a very strong and experienced batting order and it was a tough, traditional Test match. I made another hundred on the first day, and Tillekeratne Dilshan got a ton for the Sri Lankans. We got into a winning position again, and had a day and a half’s play to bowl them out in the fourth innings. Since Adelaide, the questions had sharpened over whether we could lay that killer blow. Could we finish a team off? Did we have the bowlers to do it?

  A lot of pressure was placed on Nathan Lyon, which frustrated me on his behalf. I kept telling him, ‘You won’t be judged on one day’s play, it’s all part of a journey you go through. There will always be ups and downs.’ He was bowling well, and through the summer had five or six catches go down off his bowling. If those had been taken, there would be no doubts about his position. As a batsman, nobody knew better than I that a millimetre changes your whole life. When I was struggling at the start of the 2010–11 Ashes, I nicked one a few centimetres from slip first ball and went on to make 195. It’s a very fine line between completely opposite outcomes.

  On the last day in Hobart, the little things eventually tilted our way. Mitchell Starc bowled out of his skin. His pace was really good, his accuracy was getting better, he swung the ball, and when everyone was tired he kept pushing and got the breakthroughs. Peter Siddle’s persistence was enormous too. It was a huge relief to get over the line, even if we left it until the last few overs.

  Mitchell Starc, after getting the key wickets in Hobart, was given a ‘rest’ from the Melbourne Test match. I really felt for him. It’s every kid’s dream to play in a Boxing Day Test match. He was desperate to play and in great form. Management sold it to him as needing him to be fresh for all the big cricket coming up. I thought that was planning way too far ahead. You never know if you’re going to get another chance. And three Tests down the track, in India, he would be dropped. Plus, his omission gave other guys opportunities to come in and do well. I understood the thinking behind it, and the need to preserve our bowlers, but it didn’t sit well with me. This was a Test match for Australia. It was Boxing Day.

  Jackson Bird came in for his debut, Mitchell Johnson got a chance on a sporty wicket, and they took their chance to show off their skill on a bouncy wicket. Melbourne was a fantastic Test match for us, and a convincing win, helped along by yet another hundred from Pup, who showed that not even a strained hamstring could slow him down.

  For myself, knowing that D-Day was fast approaching, I’d felt like I’d lost control a bit mentally while I was batting. I couldn’t score freely and felt like everything I did was in a rush. I just couldn’t settle. I couldn’t rotate the strike, and the Sri Lankans were diving on the ball and cutting off singles. I told myself to swing the lumber against Dilshan’s off-breaks, and tried to hit one over deep midwicket. It went a bit straight. Rangana Herath ran around the boundary, stuck out his hand and caught it between his fingertips. He then did about fourteen rolls. He looked around like he couldn’t believe what he’d done. I wasn’t surprised; it pretty much summed up my day.

  I was happier than ever with my decision, but now that I had to let people know, I was getting edgy. I’d spoken to Maxi about the actual announcement. My preference was to leave it until the end of the summer. I was worried that they’d drop me from the team, and I didn’t want to be the centre of attention, with all the fuss that entailed. But Neil was adamant that I announce it before the Sydney Test match. He said, ‘If I’m an Australian cricket fan and I don’t get the chance to come and say goodbye to you in a Test match, I’ll be annoyed about that.’

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’d only been worried about how it would affect my preparation. But he said it was important to consider all those people who came to watch the game. Gradually, though I was very reluctant about being in the spotlight, I came around to his way of thinking.

  In Melbourne, after the Test match, Amy and I went onto the MCG and had a play with the kids – a pretty rare opportunity, which I thought I should take before it was too late. No-one watching knew how much meaning this moment had for me.

  Playing cricket with William after Australia defeated Sri Lanka on the third day of the second Test match at the Melbourne Cricket Ground on 28 December 2012. (Photo by Robert Cianflone/Getty Images)

  In the dressing room, I joined the team for some beers and a celebration. I felt a little bit bad with my decision hanging over my head. I had to let them know, but there were so many meetings going on. Michael, Mickey and the selectors were trying to plan for the Sydney Test match, for the one-day series, for who would go to India early, who would go later, and so on. Mickey and Michael seemed to be in meetings for about three hours.

  Finally, Mickey sat down next to me, grabbed a beer and sighed, ‘Finally I can relax.’

  ‘Er, Mickey.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘When you get a moment, would you mind if we had a word?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said brightly. ‘Let’s do it now.’ He probably thought after all the meetings he’d sat through that this would be something minor.

  We grabbed Pup and went into a meeting room.

  I was dreading this so much, I didn’t know if I could do it. I took a deep breath and blurted out: ‘Sydney’s going to be my last Test match.’

  Michael said, ‘Huss, are you telling us you’re retiring or are you asking us for our opinion?’

  ‘I’m retiring.’

  They were both stunned. Michael’s head dropped. He didn’t say anything. Mickey’s eyes were wide. Wow, I thought. I didn’t expect that.

  Pup finally gathered himself and said, ‘Good on you, mate, congratulations, you’ve had an amazing career. I hope when I retire that I can go out the same way, on my own terms.’

  Mickey said, ‘We respect your decision, Huss. Good luck with your future.’

  It was all very quick and, after what I’d readied myself for, comparatively unemotional. I added: ‘I’d like to play out the summer in as many one-dayers as you see fit.’

  Pup said, ‘From my point of view, you’ve earnt the right to play in as many of the one-dayers as you can. We’ll have some meetings in
the next couple of days and let you know what we come up with.’

  That was how it finished. When I walked out of the room, I thought, That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be.

  When we came out, some of the boys were saying, ‘What was that about?’

  Not wanting to turn it into a full-blown announcement that took the shine off the Test match win, I mumbled something about the one-dayers. That night’s celebration was about the team, not me. Jackson Bird had done really well in his first Test, and I wanted the song to be special for the new guys. I took them into the middle of the MCG and led it with gusto. The only ones in the team who knew were Michael, Mickey and me.

  Afterwards, I felt relieved that I’d gone through with it. It was becoming a bit more real. I also had a little feeling in my stomach: I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow worried that I haven’t done the right thing.

  Before it got out, I wanted to tell the boys that night. I travelled back to the hotel in a van with Nathan Lyon and Shane Watson, two players I was particularly close to. As we pulled up, I said, ‘Just so you know, Sydney’s going to be my last Test.’

  They were in complete shock and tried to talk me out of it. I explained that I was happy with the decision and wanted to spend more time at home.

  Nathan was almost in tears. Once we walked into the hotel I pulled him aside.

  ‘Mate, if you’re willing, I want you to be the man I pass the song onto. I think you’re the best man for the job, you play for the right reasons. I’m keeping it a secret at the moment, but I can’t think of a better person.’

  I don’t know if it registered with him. He wandered away in a daze, and I went off to have dinner with family and friends. I felt pleased to give him this vote of confidence in his longevity in the Test team. When things aren’t going his way, he will have legions either bagging him or giving him advice. He’s got to figure out who he trusts, and what he’s got to do, and have faith that it will get him through. He’ll be fine. Of all the younger cricketers I’ve played with, Nathan is the one who most reminds me of myself. I certainly have faith in him.

  Giving the song to Nathan was definitely a statement I was making about values I was trying to pass on and preserve. I wanted to find someone who was going to be in the team, which was hard at that time, as so many people were coming in and out and Nathan could easily fall out of favour. Who else was definitely going to be in the team? But that itself wasn’t a good reason. I wanted to choose the right character. Nathan plays the game for the right reasons, as I see it. I played because I loved the game and wanted to wear the baggy green cap. Nathan played with passion, with love of country.

  While I was still in Melbourne I finished telling the boys, either in person or over the phone. I didn’t know how to announce it publicly, but Maxi’s plan was to do an exclusive with Channel Nine, perhaps cultivating a relationship that might lead to post-career work. But just as I was about to go into the studio, news came through that Tony Greig had passed away. That was obviously more important than my retirement interview. Part of me was relieved to be slipping into the background, while another part was feeling bad for Tony’s family. Like Kerry Packer, he had been a key figure in making the game what it was for players of my generation and we owed him a great debt.

  I was dizzy with conflicting emotions when we moved up to Sydney for the last Test match. It was extremely tough, not having been through it before. Maxi guided me through the media interviews, photo shoots and public appearances. I was still fighting him, saying it was interfering with my preparation for the Test match and this was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to be the centre of attention. But he kept saying, ‘In years to come you’ll appreciate doing it this way, and other people will appreciate it.’

  I put my trust and faith in him, and eventually agreed that it was the right thing to do. Embrace it, it’s never going to happen again. I had nothing else to prove. I could enjoy my cricket and enjoy the crowd. Channel Nine put together some great footage that we can keep and look back on for the rest of our lives. I have fantastic memories of my last Test, and I was grateful to Maxi for pulling me out of my bubble and showing me the bigger picture.

  I was grateful that Pup had lost the toss and we were fielding first. I’d have been too nervous to hold a bat, let alone use it. Just before we went out, Pup said, ‘I want you to lead the team out.’

  ‘No, no, come on mate, I want to play the Test as normally as possible, I’ve had all the stuff about me.’

  He said, ‘I’m not going out there until you lead the team out.’

  ‘No, I really don’t want to lead the team.’

  Pup set his jaw in that way that only he can. He said, ‘Well, okay, I’ll stand here and the whole world will wait.’

  Eventually I gave in. ‘Ah, bugger you, okay.’ It was a really nice gesture on his part. The reception from the public was overwhelming, far exceeding what I’d expected. Walking out onto the field, I was keeping it at arm’s length, to preserve my cricket-concentration bubble, while also soaking it up, taking a look around and listening to what people were shouting out. The crowd had come out to say goodbye, and it was a way for me to say goodbye to them. It was a great feeling to be going out on my own terms. People often say it’s good to go out when they’re asking ‘Why?’ I had seen so many players, even some of the greatest, leave the game with bitterness and scars, and I was happy that I was walking away from the team with none of that, nothing but a sense of satisfaction about what I’d achieved.

  We took the whole of the first day to dismiss Sri Lanka, and I waited 41 overs on the second before I had to bat. Steve Waugh had been at training in the lead-up to the Test. He said, ‘I found I just wanted to get out there as quickly as I could and get on with it. If you take your time you might get too emotional and think too much about it all.’

  With his words ringing in my ears, I bustled out there. As in my one-day debut, I didn’t hear the crowd. In my head I was going through my mental routine for batting.

  Suddenly I saw a guard of honour forming in the middle, among the Sri Lankans. I thought, Oh no, I really don’t want this, I just want to get on with the job. Then I thought it was weird that they were doing this in the first innings. I might bat again in the second! But it was a very nice gesture. The last guy in the guard was Mahela Jayawardene, the skipper, and he shook my hand. He said, ‘Good on you, mate.’

  Walking through a guard of honour onto the pitch in my last Test match during the second day of the third Test match between Australia and Sri Lanka at the Sydney Cricket Ground on 4 January 2013. (Photo by Cameron Spencer/Getty Images)

  I said, ‘If you really want to help, you can serve up a couple of half-volleys for me.’

  He had a bit of a laugh, and then I got down to business as usual, trying to build a partnership with Pup. He’d been struggling with his back and hamstring. Normally we liked to run really hard, but this time he was saying, ‘Just be careful on the quick ones, I’m struggling.’

  We put on 56, and things were looking good for a last big stand. But then Pup called a quick single. I was shocked at first, after what he’d said, but, as always, I went on my partner’s call. I charged and put in a big dive, but thought I was just short when the throw broke the wicket.

  I went down the other end while we waited for the video umpire’s decision. Pup was absolutely distraught, down on his haunches, moaning and shaking his head. ‘oh no, what have I done? What have I done?’

  I said, ‘Mate, don’t worry about it, these things happen.’

  When it came up as out, I gave him a pat on the back and said again, ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.’

  And it really was. For once, when I got out, I was calm. I didn’t feel like I had anything to prove to anyone. Poor Pup was really upset and even later he was down on himself about it. I did my best to make him feel better. He’d wanted to make it a big one for my last Test, and also to commemorate Tony Greig with a hundred, but cricket doesn’t alw
ays reward your hopes.

  Matty Wade’s hundred gave us a good lead, and we worked our way through the Sri Lankan top order. As Sangakkara had injured himself in Melbourne and couldn’t play, things were easier than normal, but a couple of their youngsters, Chandimal and Thirimanne, showed that there would be plenty of life in Sri Lankan cricket after their batting big guns retire.

  On the fourth morning of the Test, I was hit with a bombshell. John Inverarity, the chairman of selectors, came up to me in the dressing room with Mickey Arthur and Michael Clarke at his side. They had just finalised the side for the one-day series.

  John said, ‘We’re not playing you in the one-dayers.’

  I was in shock. I don’t think I said anything. John went on, ‘We’re happy to give you a farewell match in Perth.’

  We went out to field. I was at second slip, my thoughts racing. When I could focus on the play, I thought, Please don’t hit it to me, I’m a 50 per cent chance at best of catching it.

  As the day went on and we battled to pick up the last wickets, I thought, I don’t want a charity match. Playing for Australia isn’t a charity. I want to be in the team to win the series. I don’t want to come in and distract and disrupt the whole team for one match.

  We finally got the Sri Lankans out and entered the fourth innings with a target of 141. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but the pitch was wearing and Herath and Dilshan were the type of accurate, dangerous spin bowlers who could exploit our nerves.

  I was desperately hoping not to bat. I wanted us to win no-wickets-down. But David Warner was out in the second over, Phil Hughes batted well but got out, and then Pup and Ed Cowan were grafting their way towards the target. I was sitting next to Mickey Arthur in the viewing area, next in, saying, ‘Please guys, you do it!’